Sanctuary of Roses (Medieval Herb Garden 2)

Judith nodded her head, but her eyes were clear. "Aye, 'tis true. Gavin did nothing wrong, Maddie. . . . I know that-he sought only to defend his own, and his people, and he did not know it was him, covered in his helm and filthy with dirt. Gregory, in his foolishness, led Fantin into the keep through a way only he knew because of his relationship with me. . . . aye, Gregory made a terrible mistake and he paid the price. I have long forgiven Gavin, Maddie. . . but I do not believe he has forgiven himself. "

"And. . . Nicola? Was she too struck down. . . ?" Madelyne could not speak the words, though fear simmered in her heart. Nay, Gavin could not also have the death of his wife on his conscience. . . by accident or design.

"'Tis said she was leaving Gavin to go to your father. . . she raced across the fields and into the forest, and Gavin followed, trying to stop her. He tells me that she fell from her mount-that the horse took a jump it should not have, and she tumbled from his back. I believe that is the truth, Maddie, but there are some who believe that Gavin-in his rage-took his hands to her neck and broke it himself because he could not stand the thought of losing her to another man. " She stopped, looking directly into Madelyne's eyes. "

"He has too much honor to do such a thing," Madelyne told her quietly-knowing that her friend needed to hear her affirmation for Gavin.

"Aye, he does. I believe that. And that is why it has been such agony for me to see him as he has slid into this blackness which has surrounded him since the death of Nicola. . . and that of Gregory. If I could see that anguish wiped from his face, I'd be happy again. Mayhap you will be the one to help him do so. "

"Mayhap I will. " Madelyne sat with her hands quietly in her lap. On the morrow, she would wed him-this man whom she knew not well, but one who'd shown her both gentle and harsh sides.

"It is my greatest hope that you will, Madelyne. 'Tis my belief it is God's will that you have been turned from your intent to be a nun so that you might save the soul of a good man. "

"My daughter is to wed with Mal Verne?" Fantin's heart roared in his chest and for a moment, his head felt as though 'twas lifting from his shoulders. He slammed his palms onto the table in front of him to keep his balance and stared in disbelief at the man who carried the news.

"Aye, 'tis so. The king-with a bit of prodding from his queen, as Mal Verne tells it-has gifted him with your daughter. "

Yet another reason the queen must be punished. Fantin's eyes pounded as they bulged in his face.

This cannot happen.

He could not allow it to happen. To have his beautiful daughter-the product of his love with Anne, the manifestation of their pure joining-wed with the rough, dangerous, Mal Verne. . . .

To have the sacred blood of the Magdalen polluted by that of his sworn enemy Mal Verne.

Never.

Fantin reached blindly for his goblet of wine-a watery, poor vintage, but he could not expect better at this hole where he lived in the town out side of Whitehall. At the least he wasn't forced to drink ale or water. He choked down five huge swallows before replacing the cup and stared at his man.

"They wed on the morrow?" Fantin could barely force the words from his mouth, dry and raspy from the nasty wine and his own fury.

"Aye. The court is awash with joy over the celebration. "

An emptiness surged over Fantin and he sank onto his chair. There was no way he could halt the wedding. . . even he, in his pulsing, pounding need, knew this.

All could not be lost. There must be a way. There must be a reason for this. To have his get consummate a marriage with Gavin Mal Verne. . . . 'Twas all he could do to keep from screaming.

If she was to help him, his daughter could not be sullied-dirtied-by the touch of a man, any man. . . but most particularly that of Mal Verne. As the product of the pristine relationship between himself and Anne, Madelyne was meant for more. She'd been resurrected from the dead, after a fashion, and destined for holiness.

Somehow, he must wrest her from Mal Verne-most especially before she was got with child. Madelyne was meant to play a role in his work, and Fantin would not allow himself to be stopped.

On the even of their wedding night, Gavin found his betrothed on the battlements atop the castle of Whitehall. He knew this because Rohan had sent the word to him, but then remained to watch ove

r his lady.

She stood near the edge, looking out over the darkness that yawned before her. Her night-dark hair had come loose from its coils and fluttered like so many banners in the healthy breeze. She'd turned her face up to the slice of moon that hung among the dancing stars.

"Surely you do not find wedding with me such a challenge that you should jump, choosing death instead of me," he said quietly, purposely echoing similar words he'd said to her on the battlements at Mal Verne. Tonight, he spoke only partially in jest.

Madelyne turned regally. "I knew that you would find me here. "

Her smile gleamed in the darkness, and he was overwhelmed with longing. When had she turned into such a siren?

"What do you here?" he asked, stepping toward her so he could be close enough to feel her warmth. It was amazing: the warmth that emanated from her was not just a physical one. . . 'twas one that enveloped him and made him feel manly, strong, and protective.

Her shoulders moved gracefully. "I wished only to look upon the land from here. . . and to think. My life will change greatly on the morrow. " She turned to face him, the uneven stone wall at her back.

"Aye. " His word hung quietly between them.